Chapter One
The weather outside is... bleak, just like it was yesterday and a day before and last week. According to the weather forecast, this situation will continue for some time until the end of August. The harsh rain will then be replacing the wind that will get only colder as time passes. Eventually, puddles will turn into ice, ready for kids to slip on, cry for a bit, and then brag about it to their friends, pretending that the crying has never occurred.
Violet kind of wondered what it would be like.
Petunia tugged on her hair; she was getting a haircut and sitting nervously on a small wooden stool, thin pale fingers holding into the rim with enough strength to make them appear white. Petunia is chatting with her husband. "It is baby fat!" She keeps insisting. Vernon grumbles something under his nose and turns the page of his newspaper. The scissors that her aunt is holding made another quick snipping sound and more hair fell to the ground. Vernon finally turns around and snarls at her. Petunia only tugs on her hair, more painfully this time.
Petunia did a quick job of cutting her hair just enough to cover the odd birthmark at her neck; it was bizarre. She could almost say that it looked like the runes in Mommy's school books, which were currently hidden in the attic, almost. But she couldn't find anything that looked similar enough to figure out the meaning behind it. Maybe it just did not mean anything. At times she thought perhaps this was her curse scar, similar to the V shape present on Ralston's neck the last time she saw him. The one that the black-haired man said marked him as the nation's hero. She wondered if her twin had a similar mark somewhere else on him; she had heard of twins having identical birthmarks before.
Her Aunt's attempts to trash her confidence failed. Which then resulted in bruises, more or less turning her into their human punching bag. Wanting to do anything to leave this place, she never hid the bruise.
Day after day, she looked over her shoulder, hypnotizing the front door, waiting for the black-haired man to fulfill his promise and return. Take her back, eat candy until her belly hurts, and sleep in a comfy bed, pretending to be a princess in a castle, guarded by large scaly but super friendly dragons.
But he never came.
At times, she wondered whether something had happened.
In the end, the result was that she was never removed from this place. The other grown-ups took the unpleasant woman´s word, avoiding her, hushing their children away, shopkeepers glaring her way whenever she entered their workplace, and overall, being a no-good trouble maker.
That was her life. It taught her a brand new emotion. Hate. She hated her aunt; she hated her uncle; she hated her cousin. She hated Petunia´s friends, always gossiping about her, she hated the distrustful looks as if she was the one throwing rocks at cars passing by their house. She hated the insults other children threw her way, and she hated her everyday chores and hated the aching bruises. No book she came across ever came close to describing what hate was really like. She couldn't do so now, but she would leave this life behind the first chance she got, she promised. She wasn't trash, and she wasn't going to be treated like such any longer than she had to.
But there was one place that was different.
If there was one place in the universe that Violet loved, it was the local library. Books lying on the shelves, ready to be read by those brave enough to pick them up and discover their secrets. Violed loved the idea of little men facing a dragon if only to glimpse its vast treasure. Knights that were climbing onto a horse, prepared for a long journey to find a sacred cup or a strange monk with the intent to deliver prayers in a land far away. Violet was there, right beside those odd small men, searching for the cup and getting kidnapped with the monk. Tales of far off treasure hidden by the vast sea.
It was fun
Loads of fun.
Dudley and his gang of child wannabe mafia lords (Violet is still trying to find out what this ´Mafia´ is) couldn't get in, not after the last incident. Here, it was much easier to laugh. It was even possible to laugh at that time when Dudley decided to pick on a much bigger boy, living a bit further away from number 4. From what she has heard, the 16-year-old is currently in some strange place for re-education´ or something similar, and her cousin is pretending that he was the one who got him there. The rest of the kids ate it up. The Dudley gang began on that day.
Once, a book gave Violet the idea to imagine him with a pair of horns and a long goat-like tail. It was quickly decided that the image would never leave her head. Otherwise, she probably would spend the next couple of weeks limping around with Petunia breathing onto her neck in her attempts to make her go through her chores faster.
On a different occasion, Violet picked her pencil and an old notebook and created something that, according to her, was a masterpiece that not even a famous painter couldn't recreate. Two small figures, one with red hair and a pair of snow-white wings on its back, another one with black hair, glasses. A short, shaky m-o-m, d-a-d squiggled in the corner.
A few clouds, sun, and some grass and flowers below, and the masterpiece was complete.
Violet observed her creation for a moment, trying to compare it with a picture inside a book, and concluded that she loved it.
Violet is sure that her parents are watching her closely, just like an angel would.
The 31st of July was a significant day. Two important things have happened today, even if in different years: her birthday and her first day at Private Drive. Oh, and it is the 31st of July today, so Violet is 6. Feeling the harsh summer sun trying to sear a hole into her skin again, she was currently outside tending to Petunia's (Violet´s, actually) flower bed under the order that if anything were ruined, she would be getting a beating for it. Violet just barely managed to avoid laughing. As if she would allow her flowers to be anything but perfect.
The garden was something she had pride in; the rest did not matter. It reminded her that one time the horse neck woman had to go back on her word and bow her head. Who knew that she knew nothing about flower keeping?
This excellent flower bed provided her with the joy of laughing in the woman's face as she struggled with tending to many red roses, Violet at that time refused. Petunia really needed those to be in good shape.
What kind of idiot forgets that roses have thorns?
Even when stuck in darkness for a month, it was still worth it.
The sight of her caretaker, hands covered in mud and blood, a hateful look aimed at her but unable to do anything under the disapproving eyes of her friends, some of which quickly got the message that she might not be the one responsible for those flowers, after all, burned into her memory. It is what made her take an immense interest in these colorful little miracles.
And so, as the young ravenette worked in the garden: she was blissfully unaware of great deities working to change the destiny that was currently laying before her. While on the surface it would be a selfish action to do so the two goddess were sure that the young girl wouldn't have any complaints about it.
As the young gardener proceeded to work, she thought back to when she thought her family was happy. Sure Ralston was a bit of a git, but he was family, and that was supposed to mean they would have each other's backs always. They were twins meaning they were family. or at least supposed to be.
Violet shivered as she held a ratty, hole filled coat closer to her, trying to pretend that it was not completely useless against the icy rain that hit her like tiny needles.
She had been helping around the house like usual, setting dinner while Petunia half observed, half trying to gather more gossip from her neighbors by glancing through the open window. Dudley stormed through the house with the elegance of a beached whale as she headed to the table to put their plates on the table. Unfortunately, but also quite predictably as beached whales tend to have issues in some areas, he crashed into her causing her to drop the plates in front of her.
Violet glared at the wasted food for a moment before sending Dudley the nastiest look she could muster.
Maybe she should have been more careful, or perhaps she shouldn't have attempted her staring match with her cousin. Or perhaps it wouldn't have mattered anyway, and she would have always ended in her current situation.
To Petunia and Vernon, this was an unforgivable offense to them, as her stinging cheek and hurting arm told the reminders of Petunia smacking her cheek for daring to hurt her precious little man. Vernon had yanked her off the ground before tossing outside, where she was left at the cold rain's mercy. All hope of her having a typical evening poofed out of existence when the door locked with an audible click.
It wasn't the first time she had been tossed outside, so hiding the shed was not possible due to the locks installed previously, officially to prevent her from stealing, unofficially, to stop her from sleeping there again. Regardless of the reason, she couldn't sleep there.
As her skin was getting numb from the cold British rain, she headed to her babysitter's home, hoping for a tiny dry, preferably warm spot to sleep in. Sure it smelled of cats and cabbages, but it was better than sleeping on one of those local leaking playground equipment, under benches or, at worst, garbage cans. Ms. Figg lived on Wisteria Walk, but Violet already knew the way by heart, seeing that she spent a lot of time there, so walking was not the problem. On an average day, at least.
But the cold rain made the trek to her home harder than it really should have been. Soon enough, she came upon the house she sought and deflated at the darkened home. Ms. Figg wasn't home.
She sighed. The last empty building in the local area was no longer vacant as a local older group of boys had decided to make it their den, effectively kicking Violet out. Once she asked a teacher for help, the said teacher pretended to be helpful only to miraculously forget about her the next day miraculously. Maybe if she searched hard enough, she could find something. Maybe.
The rain kept pouring down; lightning split the skies. For a moment, it occurred to her that she could just walk away and never come back. Finding food would be a bit more difficult b… Through the darkened streets, she saw a dark flash of something. It had gone past so fast that she had thought it was her imagination. Except she was now filled with a sense of dread.
Pushing her hair out of her eyes(or at least as much as she could) she looked around seeing that she was still alone on the street but she was sure feeling like she wasn't. In the darkness she couldn't see anyone on the street as she was doing her best to make her way to the bridge that would let her know she was almost at Ms. Figgs home.
It was hard to move fast in the icy rain. Oversized clothing did nothing to help. Violet huffed as she was trying to make it to a better lit street.
Her heart pounded as she hurried her small self to The Wisteria Road (?) While also hoping was home. If not sure was sure Mr. Figg would understand if she let herself in with her spare key.
Violet's heart fluttered with relief as she saw the upcoming light from the other side of the tunnel. Wisteria Road always had better lighting that Privet Drive did. Just before she was in the tunnel she suddenly found herself faceplanting on the ground with something wrapped around her ankle.
Her first thought was her pants and shoes were tripping her up again. Though a small part of her was doubting what her head was telling her.
She soon began to scramble to get up only to be knocked back down losing her glasses in the process. Hitting the ground had also knocked her breath out just as whatever had grabbed her had then wrapped her in something tightly making it hard to less anything else.
She then found herself being lifted up from the ground and was reeled backwards as if she was a fish on a line.
Her hearted pounded as she screamed hoping someone would help. Her scream was short lived as she was slammed back into the ground.
Her vision began to blur when she register something with red eyes standing above her.
She could feel both tears and terror sting as blackness overtook her.
Note- Special thanks to StormOfDiamonds for helping write the chapter. she has alot of good stories so highly suggest for you to check her out.